Broken Pieces
by Backfired
Summary: Changed rating for now. Manga based slightly AU. The war between the homunculi and humans have ended, only to have another start up in its place. Having been caught up in a boom of new mechanics, countries try to win the war with their new weapons.DARK
1. Calm after the Storm? Hardly

**Yay~! My first fanfic!**

**And I do mean my **_first_ **fanfic. This is the first I have ever written in my whole entire (short) life! This is slightly AU, because it is set in a future that I have imagined. It is manga-based, but you don't need to know too much about the manga to understand it…just more of the later chapters.**

**And by the way, this is a multi-chapter story.**

**Pairings: Ed/Winry, Hawkeye/Mustang**

**Disclaimer: I don't own FMA…(obviously.)**

**Warning: Spoilers up to Chapter 90+ (I think)**

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Chapter 1

Calm after the Storm? Hardly…

_After the war of survival between the homunculi and humans had ended (later coined as the Great H&H war), technology and mechanics went through a big boom in Amestris. Military and security became even more strict and thorough as humankind tried to protect itself, should anything as disastrous as the countrywide transmutation circle should ever come close to happening again._

_The former Generals and scientists who had worked with the homunculi but hadn't been killed were executed, the more clever ones managing to escape to other countries. There, hiding in the Underground community, they continued to plot and experiment on animals and humans like they used to while still working under the homunculi. They combined the latest advanced technology with their test subjects to create even more horrifying weapons than they did before._

_As technology became more advanced, weapons grew more lethal; all mechanics started developing a weaponly edge to it. Though Amestris tried to keep all its new technology a secret, information still managed to leak out to the surrounding countries, such as Drachma, Creta, Aerugo, and even across the Great Desert to the country of Xing. The other countries were infuriated that Amestris was secretly amassing a huge personal arsenal. Being fearful that Amestris was keeping these huge amounts of weapons in preparation to conquer or obliterate them sooner or later, those countries also started developing their own secret weapons in hope of defending themselves. Here Amestris was developing weapons to defend _itself_, when other countries thought that they strove to attack them… many citizens got quite a laugh. But no matter how Amestris tried to convince the other countries that they did not intend to harm them, they didn't listen._

_Soon the world was caught up in a technology frenzy, as countries kept on creating new and better weapons to counter the ones being built by other countries to defend themselves. The conflict soon developed into a war, where neighboring countries pitched the weapons that were the fruits of their latest technology's labors against each other to survive and conquer this new world obsessed with high-tech machinery. _

_Some desperate countries went to the extreme of equipping humans and turning them into superhuman weapons._

_The top three main countries ruling the war, from first to third, were Drachma, Amestris, and Xing._

_In Amestris, State Alchemists were cast aside if they refused to be equipped with the newest development of mass-murdering weaponry to fight. Each individual Alchemist was equipped with a weapon that best suited their style of destructive alchemy, enhancing their powers of effectively being able to wreak havoc._

_Drachma built on the concept of superhuman weapons, refining the idea over and over again until they had what they called the Ultimate Human Weapon. The superhumans from this project that they called UHWSeraphim__**(1) **__were the most powerful and successful weapons yet__. So far their 'Seraphs' were known to be very effectively apocalyptic_(more on the details of Seraphs later in the story_)._

_Xing had developed something that made most of its citizens pretty much immortal, much like the puppets that were injected with the power of the philosopher's stones during the H&H war, except this philosopher's stone didn't use human souls(_details about this, however, are not specified and unknown to everyone except the people who created this ability_). The country had barricaded itself all around its borders so they could easily send _out _soldiers, but outsiders would have a hard time getting _in**(2)**.

_These countries dominated the war, practically blowing each other up to gain ground and destroy each other's horrifyingly potent slaughtering machines. Countless innocent citizens were usually caught in the crossfire, and yet they were paid no mind as the countries continued bulldozing on._

_Really. It was hell on Earth._

_~* ~_

**Amestris: Eastern HQ**

"Ah-! How annoying can Creta and Aerugo _be_?!" Roy Mustang sighed.

"They say they're neutral and then go and secretly support other countries while our backs are turned. And I can't do _anything _about it; because my ranking is so low after that darned demotion." The Major gave another exasperated sigh.

"Sir," Riza Hawkeye began pointedly, "You should be glad that you _only_ got demoted. You could have been publicly executed or imprisoned like some of the other 'war heroes' of Ishbal."

"I know, I know. It was only my 'heroic participation in helping to eradicate the country of the homunculi' that saved my skin. Besides, I was aware this would happen once I became President and changed this country into a democracy, but who knew this would all happen without my help?...Huh, now I'll never be able to become President." Mustang closed his eyes; covering their dark coal colored depths, and leaned back in his chair with another sigh, this time wistful as he remembered things 'that could have been'. A hand ran through his slicked back raven black hair in frustration. He sat there, without even a twitch to show that he was still alive. Riza soon grew impatient.

"Sir," Riza prompted, standing next to Mustang's desk and still clutching a sheaf of papers. Still not reacting, she rolled her chestnut colored eyes in exasperation.

"Hmmm…If I'll never have a chance to become President, is it really worth staying in the military anymore?" Roy mused, reclined in his chair and still completely oblivious to (or was he ignoring?) his last remaining subordinate. Breda, Falman, Fuery, and Havoc had all been dispersed and reassigned under different officers. Mustang had a suspicion that the government was keeping his faithful crew separated for certain security reasons...they thought of them as a threat.

"_Sir_," Riza said a little more forcefully, "I suggest you think about those kind of heavy thoughts of retirement _after_ you get more of your paperwork done?" This just left more work on Hawkeye's hands, it was much harder now to get him to cooperate without the support of her comrades.

"Yes," Roy said, yawning, "If I were to retire from the military, I won't have to bother with this stupid paperwork anymore." He sighed, opening his eyes, and accepted the papers from his subordinate reluctantly to scan them. Taking his pen, he signed here or there on the papers, sometimes making little notes.

"Any word from the Elric brothers?" Roy asked suddenly, continuing to skim the pages before him quickly.

"No word yet, sir," Riza replied curtly.

"Winry at Central must be worried," Roy remarked, and then muttered wishfully, "Central…"

Winry Rockbell had joined the military soon after Edward and Alphonse Elric had restored their bodies and left the country to "expand their knowledge of alchemy and grow even stronger (and maybe even reach level 200?**[3]**)". It had been four years now since the Elric brothers had left, so they were about the ages nineteen and twenty now. Not a word from them in those four years, but that was like them to go off and not be heard from until they got back after several years had passed.

"Why did our country agree to this pointless war again?" Roy asked rhetorically.

Riza didn't seem to notice, "The new Führer President and Parliament agreed that they wanted Amestris to not only excel and have the best and most advanced alchemy, but be the top in technology and mechanics as well."

"The whole lot of ¢em are just a bunch of naïve children I say, if they put achieving their goals before the safety of the people of this country. We could just propose that we're neutral like those blasted countries Creta and Aerugo; sans the secret allying with other countries." Mustang muttered in annoyance.

Riza didn't like seeing him this way, if he had an opinion, the old Mustang would have _done _something about it.

"Sir, you could always look on the bright side," She suggested out of worry, "If you get sent to monitor the battlefield, they might have to promote you if something were to happen to one of the higher ups."

Mustang suddenly looked up, blinking at her... and a slow smile spread across his lips...his trademark smirk that she hadn't seen in a long time.

He cocked an eyebrow and grinned, "I like your thinking, Chief Warrant Officer Hawkeye." She could almost see the gears in his brain just whipping up a devious new scheme. Her instinct told her she had just gotten herself into one wild new ride.

Riza allowed a restrained grin. Inside she was laughing out loud.

_Back to his old plotting and scheming self again. _He was more like himself that way.

"To celebrate, I might call Jenny to go out to the bar tonight with me!" Roy announced gleefully, slyly making a suggestive maneuver to rid himself of his paperwork.

"I'm afraid not, sir," Riza said dryly, "You still have a lot of paperwork to do before you can go out to have fun like that."

Mustang frowned, she had seen past his trick! But then sighed with resignation, pretending he had only just thought of that, "Ah yes, my good old friend _paperwork._"

Riza smirked and gave herself a little mental pat on the back on a job well accomplished, Roy Mustang was back…

…and kicking.

~* ~

**Amestris: Central HQ**

Winry Rockbell sat in her workshop; located in the Eastern Branch of Central HQ. She worked solo for the military, since she had finished training with Garfiel about a year ago. Her magnifying spectacles were on, and she was peering down at her work. Her appearance was still similar to what she looked like when she was 15; sandy blonde hair with bangs brushed low and two locks of hair framing the sides of her face, except that her ponytail was instead pinned up in Hawkeye's trimmed loose bun style. Her white apron was stained with grease and oil from her work, which she wore over her blue military outfit, and was crouched over her newest order of an automail arm, with only a single focused lamp on her desk to illuminate her work. She was putting on the last few touches: a screw here, a final wire connected there, before she would polish and oil it up. She wore no gloves; she claimed that they restricted her nimble fingers' mobility.

Her customer was coming soon, and when he did she would check to see if the prosthetic fit alright and make adjustments as needed.

After that she would check if there were any more orders at the front office before she could relax and spend some quality time by herself; mostly shopping for or gazing at automail tools and models…

…She sighed when she finished, examining her work. It was a simple model, with only one simple machine pistol hidden inside (it was much like the Beretta Model 93R, but lighter, easier to use, and fully automatic). But that's what the customer had wanted, a simple limb with one weapon for a cheap price. She pushed her spectacles up on her head and took her polishing cloth from its hook on the wall before her, and set to work.

As she scrubbed the arm, her mind wandered to a certain somebody who also used to have an automail arm and leg. She wondered how he was doing now, and more importantly, where the heck he _was_. She wasn't worried, she'd worried too much before to know that worrying wouldn't help do anything. She started to grow irritated, and her scrubbing grew more furious as she thought about how annoying that guy was, couldn't he at least send her one freakin' _letter_? She knew, of course, that she wouldn't be able to reply to them, they would probably have moved on from the place the letter had been sent from long before it got to her, but still, some _news_ would be nice. He was such an _idiot, Idiot, IDIOT!_ She almost felt like hurling the automail limb she was polishing across the room before she composed herself, polishing more carefully and less furiously now. She sighed. No matter how stupid he acted and even if she called him a jerk and weirdo sometimes, that didn't change anything about how she felt about him. So even though once in a while she just felt like giving him a good beating with her wrench when he came back (she wouldn't think of his coming back as an _if_), she really wished above all else for his safety. That Edward Elric. How dare he mess with her feelings so! She gave a harrumph, and switched her polishing cloth for oil.

She glanced at the small desk clock (decorated with little wrench designs, and made by herself) set on her worktable, 3:30p.m. Her customer was coming by in fifteen minutes, so she could take her time…

…The smell of the oil reminded her of when Alphonse Elric still used to be just a soul attached to armor. Of course, now he was a healthy human. She also wondered how he was doing, and if he had gotten the cat he had always wanted, or was still traveling with Ed. Ed and Al…had he grown taller than Ed? That would be _hilarious_. Was Ed still**(4) **taller than she was? She _had_ grown a little. She hoped he was still taller than her; she still didn't really like guys shorter than she was. She grinned and then chuckled, if Ed had heard her say that, he would have killed—she stopped what she was doing, pausing in surprise. Whoa. She could still think of him so fondly like that, and _laugh_. Well, it had been a chuckle, but same difference. She didn't really laugh anymore, under the stress of work and the depression about the war. Hmmmm…She started oiling the limb again. So she could think of him and laugh? She might try that more often now. The only other way she might be able to relax and laugh would probably be by making some friends. Like _everyone_ was telling her to do. But it was harder than they thought. Most people didn't share her same obsession over automail, so wouldn't understand her passion. All the other automail mechanics that worked at Central were old geezers (she shuddered at the thought of _hanging out_ with them). The ladies in the military were all the socialite type; obsessed with only shopping, gossip, and guys. She would never fit in with them…

*Ding—dong! * She was snapped away from her thoughts as the doorbell rang with impatience, *ding—dong! *.

"I'm coming!" she cried, slightly annoyed. She set the automail down on her worktable, shining and well oiled. She hastened out of her workroom, her high-heeled shoes clicking against the hardwood floor, passing the small living room/ dining room and kitchen, and into the foyer. Her workshop was also her home at Central, and it reflected her work ethic quite well. All the rooms were only sparsely furnished, with only the bare essentials, except her workroom. It was the room right next to her bedroom, and was crowded with automail tools, ongoing projects, blueprints, and everything automail related. It was all that Winry had ever wished for.

She pulled open the door, peering out at her customer. He was tall and intimidating, with slickly combed back pale blonde hair, the color almost white, and shocking electric blue eyes. His skin was a very unhealthy pale ivory, features sharp and prominent. In her opinion, he looked pretty scary. He wore a black military uniform, and another black coat draped over his shoulders as well, hiding his missing arm.

"Come in, come in!" she finally said, having been momentarily hypnotized by his chilling gaze. She moved aside, holding the door open wide to let him in.

His eyes bore into her, giving her a scrutinized once over. Her black-spotted apron implied that she had probably been working on something before he had come, and he was impressed by her obvious passion for automail mechanics. She was pretty; he would give her that, with her keen and sparkling sapphire blue eyes, and her glossy sunshine-colored blonde hair. She struck as a pleasing figure, the military pencil skirt she wore suit her well; better than the other version of trousers and boots, it complimented her look of maturity.

"Come this way," She said, leading him to her workroom, though she had a nervous feeling...she was usually very casual with her customers, but he put her on edge…

"How old are you?" He suddenly asked, just as he was introduced into her clustered workroom.

She gave a little start at his sudden inquiry, and answered nervously, "Twenty, sir." She was a little surprised at herself; she didn't usually address any of her customers as 'sir'. It was probably his intimidating presence that had automatically made her say that.

"I am twenty-six," he replied in return. She was twenty? He had thought her to be younger. She had aged well. Her young looks didn't take away from her obvious sense of maturity, though. She looked like one well used to the war, and world-wary enough.

_Twenty-six?_ Winry thought. Well, now that she thought about it, he didn't look so old. It was just the cold aura that he emanated that made him seem so unapproachable and older than his years. His presence almost seemed unnatural to her...she shook her head, to rid her mind of those unnerving thoughts. But he really did give her the creeps.

When she lifted the mechanical limb from her desk and turned around to request her customer take off his shirt, she suddenly realized something she should have asked him much earlier.

"Pardon, but I haven't heard your name," she asked this strange person nervously.

"Of course, my apologies, my name is Frodo Almacy**(5)**," he replied politely.

_Almacy…? I've heard that somewhere…Oh!_ Winry's eyebrows lifted.

"Frodo Almacy, the Duplicating Alchemist?!" She asked in utter surprise.

He in turn looked at her with a look of slight amusement, "Yes, I didn't realize you would recognize the name."

"Well, I confess that I know you aren't really famous, because your cloning experiments haven't amazingly benefited the war, but I know all my State Alchemists, backwards and forwards," She said confidently. He tilted his head, looking at her with a new sense of respect.

"Would you please take off your shirt so I can check if your automail arm fits alright," she prompted.

"Ah, yes," He slipped off his coat and unbuttoned his black military shirt, revealing his missing arm. Winry held the automail limb up next to his flesh arm, comparing the lengths. She was pleased to find that the prosthetic arm's measurements matched the actual arm well, and prepared to attach it to the empty automail socket on his left.

"You'll feel a slight shock," she warned him (though according to Ed, who was pretty tough himself, it definitely felt worse than 'just a slight shock'), and pushed the socket ball in. Frodo gave a loud yelp, and grimaced as she tightened some screws and made other slight adjustments. Then she stepped back, tapping her chin.

"How does that feel?" she asked, slightly anxious about her work.

He swung the arm around, testing the feel of it, and he grinned.

"It's great," he said, "It moves more smoothly and is lighter than any of the previous automail arms I've had."

"Great," she said, smiling hesitantly and clasping her hands together in front of her chest.

"Shall we talk about the payment?" he asked absentmindedly.

She immediately cheered up, "Yes, of course!" she said brightly, and brought out her calculator, fingers tapping excitedly at the numbers.

~~~awhile later~~~

"Thank you," Frodo nodded, slipping on his coat and out the door.

"Your welcome," Winry nodded back, waving. She waited until his back had disappeared around the corner of the hall before she shut the door with a sigh; she was actually quite relieved that he had left. His intimidating presence had kind of stressed her out. She slipped off her apron and draped it carelessly across the back of one of the dining room chairs on her way to her workroom to check the time, 4:30p.m.

Since it was still early, she decided to head to the front office to check if there were any more orders. She slipped on her black summer coat and locked the door behind her before she headed down the main hallway.

It turned out she didn't have any more orders yet, so she decided to spend the evening doing what she wanted. She had changed into casual clothes; a spaghetti strapped white dress under her black coat. She walked down the street at a brisk pace, a cool breeze brushing against her cheeks, as she peered through the large windows of shops to look for one that potentially sold anything of her interest; as in, anything to do with automail.

She spent the rest of the evening winding in and out of the local shops, but didn't find anything of interest, so had to head back home with her hands empty. _All the way home to Central a heavy, writhing feeling was forming inside of her, weighing down her heart with dread_. _The long evening had made her restless, and she felt the pang of her loneliness with growing apprehension in each step. _When she got back, she checked again at the front office to see if there were any orders, exchanging few pleasantries and waiting with agitation and impatience as the clerk took her time. When there were none, she left brusquely, keeping a poker face as she rushed down the hall, and getting a few odd looks from the people she passed by. Back in her room, her hand had lingered on the doorknob while she stood perfectly still, taking deep calming breaths. _Panic was rising, as inside of her a dam of feelings __was overflowing and pouring out, then immediately wrapped over and suffocated by the darkness. _Her frame shuddered, and she fell upon her bed and smothered her face in a pillow, not even bothering to change. _The feeling was growing stronger, and felt like it was strangling her heart and making it harder to breathe, the air around her growing thinner and thinner.._. Her bare arms gripped the pillow tighter as the dark feelings of the night that always haunted her started to rise again, a tide of emotion that threatened to flush out all her other feelings. She was curled in a protective ball on the bed, trying to shield herself from the rest of the world.

What kind of life did she have? She loved her work, of course, but she longed to find more happiness than that. She just didn't really understand what that thing _was_, that happiness that would finally content her. _She would forever be alone, misunderstood, abandoned by the people she had held dearest._ _Her parents who had left her as a child, and now her dearest friends… _But she wouldn't cry. Even though deep down she always held these weary feelings, she had never cried after Ed had promised that the next time she cried she would cry tears of happiness. After that wish had been fulfilled, she had hardened herself, became stronger internally, and never shed a tear after that, whether in joy or despair. _The emotions had pooled, lurking forever in the depths of her heart, as a reminder of her despair and yet a symbol of her hope. But she would not be deceived by their placid ripples now...because when the next night came again inevitably, her deepest horrors and fears would rise once __again._

With those poisonous thoughts left in her mind to ferment, she fell asleep that night with a sour taste in her mouth; the sour taste of discontent and confusion.

* * *

**(1)** _Ultimate Human Weapon Seraphim _If you're religious, you might know a little about the word 'Seraph'. But I've put a sick twist to it. You'll find out about their whole story in a later chapter of this fanfic.

**(2) **Like a successful Great Wall of China, lol.

**(3) **Part of an omake that I read made by Arakawa.

It goes like this: [Fullmetal Alchemist is a Shounen Manga]

**Alphonse**: Even so…it lacks a lot of shounen manga components. For example: 'hard working'.

**Edward**: Not needed. I was level 100 from the start.

**Alphonse**: 'Friendship'…we don't have many friends.

**Edward**: …Don't say it.

**Alphonse**: 'Companions'?

**Edward**: They're all old grumps.

**Alphonse**: 'A really cool protagonist'…But brother is so short…

**Edward**: SHUT UP!

**Edward**: ***sigh* **Stuff such as 'hard work' and 'friendship' are worthless, worthless! I'm all filled up with attractiveness that those Shounen manga lack!

**Alphonse**: Hmm?! Then what are those?!

**Edward**: ***holds up watch*** [State Alchemist] **MONEY and POWER**!

**Alphonse**: …What a mean manga… (What about 'brotherly love'?)

**(4) **In the manga, Ed actually gets taller than Winry starting from chapter 70+. Don't ask me how he suddenly got a growth spurt. (Maybe he actually started to drink milk?! :O)

**(5) **'Frodo Almacy' is actually the name 'Draco Malfoy' mixed up. He just reminded me of Draco so much… and yes, I know that his first name is that of the main character in Lord of the Rings. I don't read that series, but I read in another book about it, and the name Frodo just got stuck in my head. You'll hear about his background later in the story too, so be assured that he isn't just some random character I threw in there.

* * *

**Winry's mind wanders a bit too much in the beginning I think…and I'm still not completely satisfied with this chapter. This story is supposed to be pretty dark, so please tell me if I've managed to accomplish that as the story goes on!**

**I hope that you enjoyed the first chapter. Hopefully I will have the second chapter up…. soon…. If you thought this chapter didn't have much action in it, never fear, the other chapters definitely will. The story is in the middle of a war after all! XD**

**Please review! I would like to know what you think about my writing. Critique is also welcome – I always want to improve my writing!**

**And just to drop a spoiler: If you're itching to know about Ed and Alphonse, you will find out in the next chapter!**

**Thanks for reading~ **


	2. Escape

**Wrote this chapter a long time ago, but didn't get around to editing it for a while. And then it just sat on my desktop. Still not satisfied with it, but I didn't want to keep you waiting any longer, so here you go.**

**As promised, this chapter has Ed and Al in it!**

**Thanks to S J Smith and Jiyoung for reviewing.**

**Hope you enjoy~**

**Pairings: Hawkeye/Mustang, Winry/Ed**

**Disclaimer: I don't own FMA…(or I would be rich! XD)**

**Warning: Spoilers up to chapter 90+…(I think)**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Escape

**Amestris: Eastern HQ**

Three quick knocks rapped smartly against the heavy oak door to the office.

Without delay in between, Hawkeye promptly rose from her chair, "I'll get that, sir."

Mustang mumbled an inaudible response, nodding his head absently as he marked away at his paperwork. Riza sighed, setting down her own sheaf of papers to open the door. Walking swiftly across the room, boots clicking against the hard tiled floor, she pulled open the heavy wood door to reveal a large, heavyset officer and a tall, lean one standing at attention in the hallway, each carrying a large manila envelope under an arm.

Riza gave them a quick salute; she could tell they were from Central by their uniforms, and kept her face expressionless as she stated curtly, "5th Chief Warrant Officer Riza Hawkeye, how may I help you, sirs?"

They gave a sharp nod in return, "Orders from Central City that Major Roy Mustang and 5th Chief Warrant Officer Riza Hawkeye have a change of post." They handed her the manila envelopes, stepped back with another curt nod, and walked away crisply.

"What a way to flaunt their military professionalism, hmm?" Mustang commented from his seat across the room. Apparently he had looked up just in time to watch the two soldiers take their leave. Riza was scanning the addresses on the envelopes, a crease forming between her brows. Even though she clearly knew that this was a completely different situation, she had the uneasy feeling that this was too similar to the last time she got a post change. Not when she had been demoted to a Chief Warrant Officer, but when she had been assigned to be Fuhrer King Bradley's assistant. That was definitely one experience she would rather forget. She sighed, and reprimanded herself on thinking about things that had happened and already past, and handed the envelope addressed to Major Mustang to said person, opening her own. She perused the papers inside quickly, and was relieved to find that the post change Mustang had filed for had been accepted. She had subconsciously thought that the scene that had unfolded four years ago would repeat itself in the present, though she knew that would be impossible with the homunculi already overthrown.

Mustang let out a low whistle, "I didn't think that they would have gone through all those reports and files that quickly. I only just filed my request last week…"

He leafed through the sheaf of papers quickly, but stopped when one caught his eye, "It seems that we didn't get transferred just out of favor though. The East front at Xing's border seems to have an 'infestation problem'. Sounds to me like they just ran out of faithful lackeys and had to call in some real veterans."

He sighed, "I guess the government nowadays is still corrupted. But what did I expect?" He carelessly tossed the envelope onto the only cleared area of his desk, and leaned back in his chair.

Hawkeye tried to cheer him up, "Look on the bright side, sir, at least you got your transfer, and battling on the East front also means less paperwork."

"Thank goodness," he said with a smirk, but inside he was still broiling. What had Amestris gotten itself into? From one corrupted government and war to another. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. He sighed, a hand resting above his brow, and gave thanks to the small gifts in life, like a transfer that could be one step to a brighter future for a man's country.

**Drachma: UHWSeraphim Training HQ**

The small, sterile cell was filled with the glare of bright white fluorescent light. The walls, floor, and ceiling were a bare white, and there were no other entrances to the room other than a smooth metal door at the far right of a wall identical to the three others of the cell, with one huge bolt and security lock. A single slot that was currently closed was outlined at the bottom of the door, so food trays could be slid through. The only furniture in the room was a simple steel cot, much like the kind they used in hospitals, with a thin mattress, bare linen sheet, and flat pillow, pushed up against the wall opposite the one with the door. At the edge of the bed sat a golden haired boy—just getting set into manhood at the age of twenty—dressed all in black, hunched, with hands clasped at his chin, and golden irises occasionally shifting towards a corner of the ceiling diagonal from the door. There a surveillance camera was bolted, a red light blinking next to its lens to signify that it was on, and trained on his figure. It was the motion-sensing kind; programmed to follow his every move. Hidden beneath the long golden bangs that reached down to his chin and framed the sides of his face; an earpiece was concealed, occasionally crackling with static in his ear. A miniscule, black microphone for communication was clipped to the collar of his shirt, camouflaging with the equally black fabric.

A voice made raspy by the weak connection of the channel being broadcasted on whispered in his ear, "E-1, get ready for the countdown. Get as many as you can in your section, and I'll meet you at the designated area. Over."

So quietly as to be inaudible to the surveillance camera, and lips barely moving, he replied, "Roger." A click told him that the message had been confirmed, and the line had been closed for now. His eyes slid as inconspicuously as possible towards the camera again, and then at the door.

He waited a few moments, and then the line suddenly clicked back on, spewing static into his ear for a moment before clearing, "Five… four… three… two… one." Even before the line clicked back off, he had leapt with inhuman speed towards the corner of the ceiling that the camera was tucked in and crushed it with a hand, metal against metal. The alarm, screeching throughout the small cell and outside in the corridors— turning all the lights scarlet— immediately began to wail, so he dashed towards the door diagonal and smashed the lock with a swift strike, and gripping the crumpled metal and wrenching it to the side, the door stood gaping out into the flashing corridor, ripped off its hinges. He gritted his teeth and squinted against the glare of the pulsing scarlet sirens, and sprinted down the hallway. He paused at each door that he passed and wrenched them open, shouting quickly into each to escape, but not pausing long enough to see if they followed. Just a few minutes had passed and behind him he already heard boots storming down the hall in his wake. He didn't look back, continuing to smash open the cell doors and running as fast as he could towards his exit, a slim, rectangular opening in the wall of the fortress at the end of the hall that served as a window, and was guarded by four armed guards. Right now they blocked the exit quite well, crowded in front of it, with their machine guns trained on his approaching figure.

When he heard the first gunshots smattering at his heels, he abandoned his job of wrenching open the others' cell doors and concentrated on getting down the hall in one piece. He kept his eyes trained on the sliver of light that was the only part still visible through the bulky suits of the soldiers blocking the window to the illuminated night outside, and repeated to himself to not look back, because if he did, he would probably get shot in a heartbeat. Dashing at full speed, he was a blur, and jumped about three meters before he reached the window, so that he was shooting head on towards the guards. He twisted his body so that his feet were angled toward them instead in midair, and within a few seconds he felt the impact through the soles of his feet, he smashed into their armored chests and knocked them back, where they stumbled upon each other and bashed their heads on the concrete wall behind them. They hadn't expected him to jump, so had not reacted fast enough before he was already crashing into them. He leapt onto the windowsill, hands gripping the top of the window momentarily as his eyes adjusted to the blinding white beams of light piercing through the darkness of the night that the search helicopters swept along the perimeter of the fortress.

Shouts that yelled at him to stop, followed by gunshots that muffled the storming of feet suddenly rose behind him. But by the time the bullets had reached their destination, he was already gone, free falling for a moment down towards the balcony five stories below him from his leap. He reached out with a black gloved hand to graze the smooth concrete wall parallel with his vertical form to slow down his rapid descent. He landed as lightly as he could on the balcony's hard stone floor, making no sound but still sending a jolt through his legs. He winced, but ignored the pain otherwise, and walked toward the railing of the balcony.

His eyes swept the wide snowy landscape illuminated before him by the bright searchlights that scanned its area and excessive floodlights that surrounded the whole of the panorama. The terrain in his field of vision was the front yard of the UHWSeraphim fortress, and was completely flat, covered in a heavy amount of snow, and the only way to get out of the facility, a deathbed for anyone who tried to escape. The flat and completely barren land made it easy to spot a moving target, and easier to shoot it down. The whole area was surrounded with snipers lined along the roof and at every window with their guns pointed and alert for any sign of movement on the ground, and the sky was filled with armed search helicopters that would shoot anyone they spotted down in a heartbeat. No one tried to escape this place. The ones that did try were an example to everyone else of what happened to you if you did. They were shot so swiftly, by every sniper consecutively, that they were but a bloody splatter on the snow, completely unrecognizable, before anyone had even realized that they had made it out to the front. The whole stark area stretched about two football fields long, but the perimeter was where the forest began, and where you would mostly be safe. Anyone who reached that place was one lucky man. But of course, no one ever reached it.

Suddenly, he heard soft footsteps approaching behind him, footsteps that would have been silent to the normal human ear.

"E-1, you made it safely," the male voice said, and 'E-1' could almost hear the smile in his voice. He turned away from the railing and towards a man dressed similarly in all black, with golden eyes and a spiky thatch of short golden hair the same color as his.

"Likewise to you, A-2," he replied without much amusement.

"Do you think the others will really come?" A-2 asked doubtfully, glancing behind him at the dark hallway where shouts could be heard, slowly getting closer. E-1 also glanced up towards the window he had jumped from, but saw no signs of movement. The shouts were getting closer now— they had already wasted enough time.

"I guess we'll leave those wimps to their own devices," E-1 said with a roll of his eyes.

"You can't blame them for not wanting to come," A-2 chastised, "We've all seen what happens to people who try to escape."

"Yeah, yeah," E-1 replied in exasperation, "But they could at least take the chance we gave them." He walked toward the railing again, swinging himself up onto it so that he crouched precariously over three stories of empty space, a direct drop to the flat landscape that was his escape route.

A-2 swung up beside him, and they took one last glance at the building they would hopefully never see again, and jumped.

**Amestris: Central HQ**

Winry Rockbell was working on a new order for an automail leg in her workshop, when three raps sounded at her door.

"Coming!" she set down her fine-tuning tools and wiped her oil-blackened hands on a stained cloth before heading to the door. She was surprised that they hadn't even bothered to use the doorbell, and suspicious, because none of her customers were supposed to come today… so she didn't know who could be outside. But the military wouldn't let any suspicious-looking personnel into Central… would they? She guessed she just had to trust the headquarters' receptionist.

With a sigh, she opened the door cautiously, out of habit saying, "Rockbell Automail, how may I help you?" But it seemed that the greeting wasn't needed, because she was met with two tall figures that seemed very much to have all their limbs intact. The first man was burly and quite large, the other slim and tall, the latter carrying a large manila envelope.

"Ma'am, you are to be transferred to the battlefield at the East front, Xing's border," the skinny one said curtly, handing her the envelope.

She took it hesitantly, startled at the news.

The two men had just turned away crisply when she suddenly called after them, "Excuse me, but why am I being transferred? I'm an automail mechanic, not a soldier." They turned around, surprised at being asked anything at all.

"A request made by Major Mustang, and the recommendation that you might be… useful at Xing's border from the Führer, from what I've heard," the burly one finally spoke. Winry looked at the envelope in her hand; she guessed that that was reasonable enough. The Xingese were known to be prone to blow things up… so there were bound to be casualties where people would lose more than a few limbs. And she would finally be able see Mustang, a familiar face. She vaguely remembered him as that man four years ago that had ranted to her about how any guy who saw her must fall all over themselves in her beauty, which had been quite annoying.

She shook her head, this wasn't the time and place to be reminiscing about old times, and said to the two officers that were still waiting patiently in the hall, "Thank you, gentlemen." And closed the door when they nodded in return and left.

She clutched the envelope in her hands as she stood with her back against the door. She stared at it; inwardly hoping it would bring her one step closer to Ed and Al. She sighed, and taking a deep breath, tore it open and pulled out the thick bundle of papers inside. She examined the contents quickly, read some about the situation at the battlefront, her assignment, and the usual rules and regulations, criteria, guidelines, safety procedures and whatnot. She assumed she had gotten more than the usual amount of procedures because she was not exactly a soldier, more of an office worker. She had been around enough danger in her lifetime while she had been with Ed and Al on their quest, so she had more than enough common sense about what to do in dangerous situations, though there were probably a few times where she had not done the best thing in that situation… But she still smiled at the thought of a change of scenery, and taking the papers and placing them in order again, laying the folder and leafs on her small wooden dining table, she went back to work.

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**I hope there was enough action in this chapter XD, though this chapter is shorter than the first one.**

**On a side note, after finishing reading FMA *spoiler***** I was actually pretty disappointed with the ending; I would've liked one that left more of an impact. Oh well. But a lot of unexpected things happened (like Ed not getting his leg back in the end/no more alchemy, and Mustang was blind…but then not?) So technically, this fanfic is no longer accurate… ._. ****but that's what's to be expected…*****spoiler end***

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and as always, please review ****!**

**Thanks for reading~**


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